Stare at the Sun
by thedreamclubmurders
Summary: There's a new trio in town; Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, and Rose Weasley. Unfortunately for them, there's always a big scary wizard looking to take over the world. Not to mention these impossible things called feelings.
1. Chapter 1

(( A/N: Hey guys! I know I have two other stories that are unfinished, and a lot of people want to read new chapters, but I'm having a brain block. D :

But, this is my solution! This story will hopefully get the creative juices flowing and I'll be able to write for Swansong and Bella of Kentworthy.

Please read and review, tell me what you think! Always makes me happy! ))

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 1 -

"Oi, Potter, quit drooling over the cauldron and _do_ something. Professor Terrycloth is going to think I'm just as much of a numb-nut as you if we fail this. And, you know I can't have her thinking I'm stupid. How do you expect me to cultivate a fan club _that_ way?"

The crooked grin of Scorpius Malfoy shined down on Albus Potter's much shorter frame, as the two boys stood peering over a bubbling cauldron whose contents were circling the colors of the rainbow, now turning from a bright pink to a rather repulsive green. Albus had shoved his friend back for his snarky comment, although he was quite used to it after six years of friendship with the only son of Draco Malfoy, and he moved his hands over a slew of ingredients scattered across the table, hovering over a jar of beetle dust.

"Did we add this already? I can't remember," he said distractedly.

Scorpius, however, was not listening. His gaze had gone to the two laughing silhouettes a few rows ahead, and his sharp gray eyes narrowed, scowling to no one in particular and stirring the cauldron without Al's permission.

"Look at those two, do you think she could laugh any louder? I mean, we get it, Wood's _funny_. I, for one, find him rather annoy—,"

"Shut up."

Albus tried to be as kind as possible, but Professor Terrycloth had been fast approaching.

The Professor looked down at the two boys through her rectangular glasses, using a wrinkled hand to pull them down to the bridge of her nose for better observation of the cauldron's contents. After a moment, she tutted, patting an ancient hand on Scorpius' shoulders, much to his horror, as she said, "You've got it all wrong. Start over. And, Potter, perhaps this time you should do the stirring."

Professor Terrycloth moved on to the next table, and Scorpius rounded on Al with an accusatory look.

"See! I told you. Now she thinks I'm lacking. Thanks, for that, Potter."

Albus smirked, nudging his friend's shoulder roughly and grabbing the wooden spoon from the cauldron. "What were you saying about Wood, anyway?" His bright green eyes went from Scorpius to the two people standing up ahead, one with curly wild dark red hair and the other with a tall frame that almost rivaled Scorpius', with messy brown hair and an unsettling eye on Al's cousin.

"I don't like the way he looks at Rose," Al observed, absently picking up an onion and nearly crushing it against his palm.

"Now you sound reasonable." Scorpius said smugly. "I say we pummel him in the broom shed. No one goes out there after hours but us. We could tempt him with false hope – leave a note signed from Rose or something. It's possible. I've got a mean right hook."

Albus gave his friend a mocking look, raising a brow. "You wouldn't punch him."

"I would," Scorpius said defensively. "Remember the one time I socked Lorcan Scamander in the jaw our fourth year?"

Albus paused thoughtfully, and then gave a noncommittal shrug. "Suppose you did. And, if I remember correctly, that was because of Rose, too."

"Well if you kept a better eye on her," the blond muttered, turning his head away and sifting through the ingredients rather determinedly. Albus sighed, skimming the page of his open Potions book for what they'd missed the time before. "Aha!" He suddenly announced, tugging on Scorpius' sleeve. "It's eye of newt, we forgot eye of newt."

Scorpius rolled his eyes, examining the now yellow liquid in the cauldron with a bored expression. "If Wood hadn't stolen Rose from us we'd have known that _before_ Professor Terrycloth verbally assaulted my sensitive ego."

"Do you ever get sick of hearing yourself talk?" Albus asked, smirking.

"Don't be silly," Scorpius grinned boyishly.

The two boys dedicated the rest of their full hour block of class to trying to reconstruct a more accurate potion, and in the end they emerged successful, much to the delayed praise of Professor Terrycloth. Grabbing their bags, both boys headed for the door, Scorpius a little faster, and caught up to the visage of their other best mate and Jeremy Wood.

"Rosie! Rosie – wait up," Al called out, but Scorpius was already next to her, cleverly fitting right between Jeremy and Rose.

"Class was unbearable without you." He said semi-sweetly, and Rose swatted his arm. "You mean without my praise-worthy potions skills," she laughed.

Al was now in stride with them, a little out of breath, and he snorted. "Do you two share one central ego, or something? I swear, it's ridiculous," he looked to Wood for support, but the boy was too awestruck staring at Rose, and he answered airily, "I think it's endearing."

Scorpius' eyes widened, looking to Rose and mouthing, 'endearing'?

She shoved him, pursing her lips to keep from laughing, and whispered, "play nicely Malfoy, or I'll stick lemon snaps down your trousers."

Pretending to be offended, Scorpius fake gasped and put a hand on Rose's shoulder. "You wouldn't."

But before Rose could spit back a clever response, Jeremy Wood had cut in front of them, all but forcing Scorpius to take his hand off her shoulder, and he gave Rose Weasley what could only be described as a very awkward hug. "I've got to get to the Library, but I'll see you later yeah?"

Rose nodded, "Yeah, sure Jeremy. See you."

As soon as he was out of ear shot Scorpius groaned, propping an elbow up on Al's shoulder, as the other Slytherin boy was considerably shorter than him, and reached out to pull down a stray curl of Rose's hair, watching it bounce back up. "How can you stand that boy's company? He's like a giant train wreck of teenage awkwardness."

"Oh," she mirrored his action and reached a hand up to seemingly run it through his hair, but at the last minute detoured and gently slapped him across the face, "he's not that bad, you're just being dramatic. It's a bit cute, actually." She smiled briefly. "I swear, you're worse than Al, and _he's_ family. I'm the same age as you, Scorp, I'm not a little sister." She raised a brow, betraying just a small smirk, and then threw her arm around Al's free shoulder.

The poor black haired boy winced under the weight of his two best mates, "It's cause I'm short, isn't it?"

"You're taller than me," Rose observed, laughing.

"We're the same height." He said dryly.

"Never satisfied, are you Potter?" Scorpius grinned as the three came to a staircase, forced to separate in order to walk down.

Adjusting the strap of her knapsack from one shoulder to the other, Rose looked between her two favorite boys and smiled, "I've got some homework to do before Quidditch practice tonight, so I'll see you two at dinner, yeah? And—," she paused to take a step towards Scorpius, looking up at his innocent expression, "don't torture Wood. You don't even like the Library, why bother going there just to light the ends of his robes on fire?"

Scorpius looked appalled, holding a hand up to his chest as if to say, 'me?!'

"Don't act like you weren't already plotting it." Rose said in response, chuckling lightly as she shoved his chest.

"It's true," Al said, grinning. "You go on, Rose, we'll see you at dinner. It's your turn to sit at our table, don't forget. I'm not sitting through another dinner with Lorcan Scamander's chatty mouth killing the taste of food in my mouth."

Scorpius clapped Al on the shoulder, smirking satisfyingly. "There's that sarcasm I look for."

"You two are completely ridiculous, did you know?" Rose shook her head, taking a few steps backwards while waiting for Al and Scorp to start walking down the stairs. They both offered a wave, and disappeared down the stone staircase. Once she was sure they'd vanished from view, Rose turned around and broke into a brisk stride, determined not to glance over her shoulder even once before she reached the Gryffindor Tower.

There would be an owl waiting for her when she arrived in the Common Room, and it would determine whether or not she made it to dinner that night.


	2. Humble Beginnings

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Two**  
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

"So," Albus Potter rocked back on his heels, letting his tired body rest against the corridor corner as he awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"So," the conversation's counterpart replied back, mirroring Al's slightly pained looking face.

He winced at the mockery. It was not _supposed _to be like this, if Scorpius had not decided to satiate his curiosity and follow Wood to the Library against Rose's orders...

Albus knew it would not end well for his blond friend, but he could not let the man march alone into battle. He'd stupidly offered to accompany Scorp to the Library, only to discover that it was the young Slytherin's plan to ditch Al at the door, leaving him in the company of a friendly rival, one of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Players.

_Why is Scorpius taking so long_? Albus inwardly thought, eying the girl's slender frame without realizing. She was a year above him, and they rarely spoke outside of Quidditch banter and the occasional passing nod in the hallways.

"I think there's something wrong with your friend," the girl, whose name was KC, wore an amused expression as she looked past Al's shoulder. For a brief moment he thought her half smile was for him, until her words sank in. He nearly snapped to attention, abandoning his post against the corridor's rough walls to chase after Scorpius Malfoy; the end of his robes were engulfed in flames as he ran out of the Library, trying futilely to stomp them out.

Albus tried to mask his laughter as he procured a wand from his robe pocket, shouting at his best friend.

"Hold still you nutter! If you don't hold still I'll accidentally curse your shoes off!"

Scorpius suddenly stopped, as though Albus had just mortally offended him. "Well don't do _that_, you mindless oaf. These shoes are very expensive. Worth more than that bloody haircut," the blond smirked, raising both brows smugly.

Albus pointed his wand and muttered something quickly; a large splash of water shot out the end, drenching Scorpius from head to toe, still effectively putting out the fire.

"At least I don't look like I went diving for mermaids in the Black Lake." Albus smirked, re-pocketing his wand and turning around to awkwardly finish his conversation with KC. Not that much had been said, but Albus still felt like he should at least offer a _goodbye_.

It seemed she was gone, however, and the black haired boy betrayed a fleeting crestfallen look, which Scorpius wasted no time pointing out.

"Sad your girlfriend ran off? _Well_, Potter, I doubt she was dating you for your looks. It must be awful, having a famous father. Women use you, Professors give you unfairly good grades, you managed to snag the most attractive man at Hogwarts as your best friend—,"

"Man?" Albus said, laughing, "I think you have to at _least _know how to cast a Patronus Charm if you're a man."

"Oh, shut up," Scorpius said in an irritated tone.

The two boys fell into step with each other, wordlessly heading towards the Dungeons. After a few minutes of silence, Albus said slowly, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

They reached the dampest part of the castle, always causing Albus to plug his nose and hold his breath. This usually elicited a sarcastic quip from Scorpius, something about how the young Potter had been a Slytherin for six years and he still was not used to the generally dark and creepy atmosphere, but today he was silent. Albus assumed he was still living in the shame of his previously fire-lit robes, but there was something else in Scorp's eyes that even his best mate could not detect yet.

* * *

Rose had reached the Gryffindor Common Room with some time to spare before her next class, as she had planned, but it seemed the owl she had been waiting for all week… was missing.

The redhead froze, the color receding from her cheeks as she frantically began tearing her bed sheets apart, looking for the letter. She had gone up to the Owlry that morning after breakfast to see if Gambit, her wide-eyed elf owl, had returned; there was a red ribboned letter tied to his leg securely. Rose soon learned that it was charmed to burn anyone who held it other than the letter's recipient, when Vivane Montague tried to pick it up from Rose's bed while they prepared for their first class. The youngest Montague child was well known for her nosiness, though Rose did not suspect her to be stupid enough to return to the letter after the nasty burn mark it left on her thumb this morning.

Sometimes she wondered how the daughter of one of the meanest former Slytherins (according to her father's accounts) managed to end up in Gryffindor. Perhaps with the same luck that landed Harry Potter's youngest son into Slytherin.

Her panicked efforts to find the letter were unsuccessful, and as Rose moved to the foot of her bed, sinking to the floor and hitting her head against the side of her trunk, she muttered, "Bloody f-ing bollocks."

Rose Weasley was in a world of trouble. _Might as well start packing my stuff up now_, she thought miserably.

* * *

Scorpius had wasted no time changing once the two boys arrived at their Common Room, purposely avoiding Al's apologies as he rifled through his trunk. Albus simply smirked at the back of Scorp's head, knowing full well that his best friend was terrible at staying mad.

Emerging with a clean, and dry, uniform, Scorp clapped Al on the shoulder as the shorter boy sat on his bed, reading a book whose title was covered. "What are you reading there?" He peered over Al's shoulder.

"Nothing," Albus slammed the book shut and stuffed it under his pillow.

"Ah," Scorpius smiled knowingly, "a trashy muggle romance novel."

"You know me too well," Albus grinned boyishly, shoving his friend for the comment as he stood. "Time for dinner then, yeah?"

"Lead the way, Sir Potter," Scorpius said in a deep voice, furrowing his brows into a stern face that was meant to mock their substitute Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Arthur Walfangus. Hagrid had been absent since the end of last year.

* * *

Per their agreement, Albus and Scorpius waited at their house table for Rose. Every few days they alternated, so as not to stir up any trouble with the two still rivaling houses; though, Al secretly loathed sitting at the Gryffindor table. It reminded him of who he _wasn't_.

Rose was never one to be late, so when the second course had been served and there was still no sign of the energetic redhead, Scorpius brought it upon himself to interject his worry.

"I think Jeremy has her tied up somewhere. We should just kill him and be done with it." He stabbed his meatloaf angrily, nearly flicking a piece across the table at Charles Montague.

"You just want an excuse to off him," Albus said between chews.

"And as one of my best mates, you have to support that desire fully." Scorpius took a large gulp of Pumpkin juice, gripping the glass just a bit too tightly.

"I'm sure she has a reason to be late. Relax, Malfoy. People are going to think you're hot and bothered for my cousin," Albus joked, but there was an undertone of slight concern in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," Scorpius snapped, attacking his meatloaf again with the fork, "I'm as much hot and bothered by her as I am you."

"So, you're madly in love with her," Al said, cracking a grin.

"Meatloaf?" Scorpius said innocently, before flicking the fork in Al's direction, causing the rubbery meat to smack him in the arm.

Suddenly there was a loud slamming noise, and a very out of breath curly haired Weasley standing in front of them. Rose held up a hand, signaling the boys to quit their banter while she composed herself. Once she felt as though she had their full attention, Rose sat down and lifted her rather heavy looking knapsack onto the table. It mirrored the slamming noise her own hands had made just a few seconds earlier.

"Boys, it's been lovely. It really has. Albus – you're never going to get a girlfriend if you don't take care of that hair. Scorp – I may or may not have been in love with you our first three years of Hogwarts. To my two best mates," she leaned forward and grabbed them both by the outside shoulder, pulling them into an awkward hug, "don't get into too much trouble without me. Farewell," she sighed dramatically, finally letting them go.

"_What _are you on about?" Albus said, half laughing, half tensing up. He nudged Scorpius for support, but the boy looked as though he'd just been hit with a brick.

"I'm getting expelled," she said simply, reaching a hand over to steal one of Scorp's dinner rolls.

"No, you're not. You wouldn't be so calm about it if you were," Charles Montague suddenly interjected, smirking rather creepily at Rose.

"Was I talking to you?" She said without looking at him, throwing the dinner roll at his face.

Albus and Scorpius followed suit, pelting their own dinner rolls at Charlie's face. The boy scoffed and moved his seat, muttering under his breath.

"Explain this nonsense." Albus said in a low tone, leaning towards his cousin.

Rose seemed prime for an explanation, drawing in a deep breath and holding her hands up to animate her story, but something stayed the words in her throat. Scorpius had not said much, but he'd been watching her keenly, and he noticed the subtle swivel of her eyes as they moved behind Al's head, and the slow blinking as her mouth fell open. It was barely noticeable, unless one was trying their hardest to notice.

"Who is _that_?" Rose said suddenly, dropping her hands on the table and drumming her fingers as she waited for a response from one of the boys.

Scorpius decided he did not give a pygmy puff's arse who said person was, so he folded his arms and stared pointedly at what was left of his dinner while Al spun around casually, scouting out the person. It was a boy he recognized from Slytherin, a year older and certainly not the kind of person he wanted Rose inquiring about. His name was Hawke; Albus could not recall a first name.

He was careful not to react, because if Scorpius got involved he would surely attempt to fight the boy before dinner ended, and despite the young Malfoy's exceptional dueling skills, Hawke could easily knock him out with half a punch. The boy – the _man _was built like a stone temple, with a towering height and an almost insultingly muscular build. It was no wonder Rose was so curious.

"He's some creepy Slytherin. He kills squirrels for fun." Albus lied as he poured himself more pumpkin juice. "And he tried to force himself on Lily last year."

"Oh, I _highly_ doubt—," Scorpius started to contradict him, but Albus elbowed him in the stomach.

"Really?" Rose sounded skeptical, and strangely uninterested in her previous sentiments about getting expelled.

"Bad bloke. Stay away from him." Albus summed up, pouring his cousin some pumpkin juice as well. "Back to this being expelled business. Explain yourself, Rosie."

She was already somewhere else mentally, however, and Scorpius could tell; Al had a perfect image constructed in his head of his cousin, which made it hard for him to see the flaw in her fiery personality. Scorpius knew that, once she set her mind on something, it would take an army of former Death Eaters to stray her from the path (and even then, half of them wouldn't stand a chance). He could see the dead-set look in her eyes, and it sparked his interest. _Who _was so important that she'd abandon a trio dinner for?

As his head turned Albus elbowed him in the stomach again.

"Ow! Bloody heck Potter, what's your problem?"

"Sorry. Reflex." He muttered. "Hey – wait! Rose!" Albus called after his cousin who'd taken the brief distraction between the boys as a way to slip out of the conversation unnoticed. She was already nearing the Great Hall doors by the time Al called after her. Slumping back down in his seat, he reached for his pumpkin juice to take a sip – only to find that there were chunks of meatloaf in it.

Scorpius pretended to be intimately interested in his peas, though there was a satisfied smirk on his face.

* * *

She didn't know what it _was_ about him. Rose had seen her fair share of fit boys (being on the Quidditch team helped in that department), but this was a different kind of fixation. She was not a stupidly lust stricken teenage girl awkwardly chasing after her dream guy; rather, a very curious girl who never said no to her impulses. She _wanted _to follow him, so she did.

It seemed the young man noticed, but he had done nothing to indicate that Rose was not welcome. He quietly exited the Great Hall, with the redhead fifteen feet or so behind, and he left the castle without checking to see if she would follow suit. Though she did – forgetting that she was ill prepared for the October weather in just her uniform skirt and blouse.

He had stopped at the bottom of the castle steps, with both hands in his pockets and his eyes on the horizon. Rose suppressed a shiver as she started down the steps, allowing the stone _clinks _to make her presence known if it was not already.

"Do you make it a habit to follow people around?" The young man spoke, stopping Rose mid-step.

"Do _you_ make it a habit of killing squirrels? Because, the way I hear it—," she started, comfortably giving him this information. Most people did not think twice up against Rose's charm.

"Is wrong," the young man finished her sentence, finally turning around. He kept his hands in his pockets. "Good day." He said curtly, brushing past her as he walked back up the stairs and inside the castle. As he passed by, however, Rose spotted an unmistakable trace of burn marks on the parts of his wrists that were visible just above his pockets.


	3. Strange Stranger

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Three**:  
"Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake." - Henry David Thoreau

The rest of the night had been a quiet, slow moving doldrum, but Albus could not shake his cousin's words. Why had she been so convinced of her expulsion? Furthermore, why had she abandoned the worry as soon as she saw that _guy_, Hawke?

He tried sharing his concerns with Scorpius, but the blond boy refused to listen.

"Just hear me out, okay Scorp? She was acting like a _nutter_ at dinner."

Scorpius held up his hand, using the other one to turn a page in the newspaper he'd been reading since they got back to the Common Room. "Rose loses her marbles every now and then. Let it go."

Albus was shocked at his friend's callous dismissal, but he did not press the subject.

What the young Potter did not know was that Scorpius was in full agreeance with his worried pleas, but he needed to throw Albus off Hawke's scent if anything was going to be done about it. Scorpius planned on paying the older Slytherin a visit later that night, once he was sure everyone else had gone to sleep. Seventh years had their own section in the Boy's Dormitory, but Scorp was no stranger to breaking rules. He'd gladly beat this Hawke out of a good night's sleep with the dull end of a tennis racket (one he'd swipe from Al's stuff as soon as he went to bed) to demand just _what _he thought he was doing with Rose.

The two boys sat in silence for quite some time, until Albus finally stood, yawning. "I think I'm heading to bed," he said drowsily, almost overemphasizing his tired eyes.

"You do that," Scorpius smirked, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Goodnight." Albus shrugged as he walked past his friend, knocking his feet off the coffee table and stifling a chuckle.

"_Goodnight_, Potter," Scorpius called after him, pretending to be annoyed.

He sat as he was for the next hour, with his legs lazily propped up against the wooden table and his face hidden behind the Daily Prophet. It was a popular read amongst the older students, though there was little in the way of frivolity in its pages. His father, Draco Malfoy, told him that once upon a time the Daily Prophet was considered the biggest joke in news reporting history, and made its money off of filling its pages with monstrous lies.

Though that was not a shared sentiment amongst his father's schoolboy friends. It seemed Draco Malfoy was the only former Death Eater who was happy remaining just that – _former_.

As the Common Room died down, Scorpius peered over his newspaper to make sure he spotted Hawke entering. Though, the young man never showed up. It approached 2am, and with an irritated sigh, Scorp abandoned his post and crumpled up the Daily Prophet before tossing it into the fire.

The flames licked the crinkled paper, and as it burned down only a center headline was visible, '**ICARUS FITZWARBLER, FAMOUS PRACTICAL MAGIC BOOK AUTHOR, GONE MISSING**'.

* * *

Despite the three sleeping potions, ambient music, and forced camp out under her covers, Rose Weasley could not fall asleep.

She had been stuck on the same image all night, rewinding and then fast forwarding through her brief encounter with the older Slytherin boy whose name she had yet to learn. His wrists were burned, of this she was certain, but she could not make sense of how he would come to obtain her letter.

There was no other plausible explanation as to why he kept his hands in his pockets the whole time, and why his arms were burned in such a peculiar place. Rose repeated this logic to herself until it became bedfellows with the truth. The curiosity in her hungered to see him; she wanted a proper explanation, and she wanted her letter back.

Around 3am, the young Weasley gave up on trying to sedate herself into forgetting, and threw off the covers, grabbing her cloak and hopping towards the door as she ungracefully tried to put on her slippers.

As she exited the Girl's Dormitory, a set of observing eyes watched her silhouette leave. Vivane Montague rolled over in her bed, tucking a hand under her cheek as she breathed slowly, trying to figure out why Rose Weasley was sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night.

* * *

In the past six years, Rose had made an art out of sneaking into the Slytherin Dungeons unnoticed, and tonight was no exception. She had almost forgotten her wand, turning around just as she reached the bottom of the stairs to retrieve it. As she rifled through her trunk, it sounded as though someone was moving around behind her, but when she glanced over her shoulder there was nothing but still darkness.

She quickly exited the dormitory again, and this time she was determined not to stop until she found the young man who had perhaps stolen the most important thing she'd ever come across in her entire life from her.

Subtlety was a hard endeavor when one had wild red curly hair, but Rose was surprisingly good at the art of skulking. She managed to go unnoticed all the way to the Entrance Hall, but just as she rounded the corner, eying the Dungeons entrance, a voice stopped her.

"Looking for me?"

She jumped, grabbing the banister next to her. "Oh, Merlin." Rose gave a sigh of relief, still holding the wood frame for support. "Yes, actually, I was. How did you know?"

The person whom the voice belonged to, the young man from dinner, gave a noncommittal shrug, his hands in his pockets like they were earlier that evening. "That's the wrong question."

"What?" Rose said, finding that the late hour made him less endearing and more irritating with each passing second.

"I'm going for a walk," he said plainly, and then turned his back to her, heading out the doors.

For a few moments she did not even believe the scene had transpired, until the cool wind from the left open door reminded her that it _was_ real. Her fixation with the young man was eclipsed by the growing anxiety regarding her letter. He clearly was the one who had it; though she had to wonder, was he asking her to follow him? Did he want her to pursue him?

Rose took on a cautious expression, letting go of the banister slowly and moving towards the open door. "Hey!" She half whispered, half yelled, poking her head outside. He was no more than twenty feet ahead, hands still in his pockets, gazing up at the moon.

The newborn irritation quickly became a full blown dislike as she observed his calm features; Rose took off her cloak, wedging it between the door and the frame to make sure they would not be locked out, and she followed the shadow of his stride until she stood next to him, noticing then how much shorter she was.

"You stole my letter," she said after some silence.

The young man did not even blink. He kept his gaze on the moon.

Rose cleared her throat, stepping in front of him and leaning up, attempting to reach his eye level, "you _stole my letter_," she repeated, this time with a tiny growl.

Without warning the young man grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up, bringing them to the same height.

"I did not steal anything of yours." He said firmly.

Rose squirmed against his grip, but it was surprisingly steady. Suspended in the air, she wiggled a few more times before letting her body slump in his tight hold, looking annoyed.

"Oh yeah? Then why did it burn you when you touched it? If it belonged to you, it wouldn't do that," she stared pointedly at his hands, which were now clearly visible in the moonlight. They looked as though he'd dipped them into a vat of acid.

He seemed shaken by this question, and a fleeting expression of anger marred his otherwise stoic face. Instead of setting her down, he pulled her in closer, so that her nose was now pressed up against his. To an outsider, it might have looked almost comical.

"This information is _not _yours to have."

She did not even hear his words at first; every nerve in her body had become electrified, uncomfortably aware of their close proximity. Her breath became slightly ragged as she tried to challenge is direct gaze with an unwavering one of her own.

"You're hurting my arms," she finally managed to say, still neglecting to process what he had said.

The young man shook his head, and his dead expression suddenly became one of panic. It was as though he'd just remembered himself. Placing Rose down slowly, he took a step back and re-pocketed his hands.

"Sorry."

"You're not a man of many words, are you?" Rose gave a tiny laugh.

He did not even blink. Instead, he stuck his scarred hand out, speaking in the most polite voice she had heard out of him so far. "My name is Hawke."

"That's a strange first name," Rose giggled, meeting his rather large hand with her own delicate one, feeling the abrasions on his skin as she shook it. "You should let me take care of that. I'm awfully good at healing spells."

"No," Hawke pulled his hand away quickly. "It's fine."

"If you give me back my letter I'll heal your hands." She took a step towards him.

Hawke suddenly laughed; it started as a tiny snort, and then it grew in swells of honest, loud, almost mocking laughs.

"_What_?" Rose said hotly, crossing her arms.

"I don't need your help to heal my hands." He smirked, taking a step towards her so that they now met at the base of a tree root, with the moon serving as an eerie backdrop to their strange conversation. "See?" Hawke said, as he held them up. If Rose had not been so taken by the beauty of his face, she may not have noticed how his eyes flooded a misty gray haze, almost as though there was magic seeping into them…

"See?" He repeated himself, wondering why she had not reacted with a shocked gasp, as most people did.

Rose tore her gaze from his changing eyes and noticed that his hands were as smooth as the skin on her face, still large and awkward but without a single callous. Grabbing his hand, she pulled it up to her face for closer inspection.

After a beat of silence, Rose exclaimed, "teach _me _how to do that!"

Hawke laughed again, pulling his hand away gently and using his free one to grip her shoulder. "It's not something that can be taught, I'm afraid." He sighed, looking directly at her for a full minute without saying anything. Rose felt as though he was looking for someone when he looked at her, someone that she could easily tell him was not there. Finally, Hawke let out a breath and placed his free hand on her other shoulder.

"It was nice to meet you, Rose," he smiled, and then squeezed her shoulder, maintaining direct eye contact. The last thing she remembered was the strange gray haze seeping into his eyes again, and then…

* * *

Rose shot up, gasping as she clutched the nearest thing to her, which happened to be the rather rumpled bedsheets of her four poster. She had been somewhere else, hadn't she?

No…

With each passing second it slipped away, like a long lost dream, and Rose found herself laying back down sleepily, passing out mid-yawn.

Just out her window Hawke stood, keeping his body stiff as he balanced on the North Tower's shingled roof. He took one last daring look through the stained glass, making sure Rose was asleep, and then he shifted his gaze out to the ever-changing night sky. Within moments a buzzing sound filled the quiet air, and Hawke leaped off the Tower, landing on his broom as it zoomed past, taking him back to the castle entrance.

* * *

From the view of the East Grounds, staring up at the North Tower with a very peculiar expression, stood one Scorpius Malfoy, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen.


	4. The Charming Rose

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Four**:  
"Beauty is a fragile gift." - Ovid

Albus Potter had not meant to lie to one of his best mates, but he had begun doing things lately that he was not accustomed to. After he bid Scorpius goodnight, the black haired Slytherin confined himself behind the drawn curtains of his four poster, sneaking a hand under his pillow to retrieve something he had kept secret from Scorpius earlier.

A book; it was leather bound, with a title delicately carved into its fabric, and a strange marking on the front. Glancing up one last time to survey the slow moving shadows through the lens of his bed curtains, Al held his breath in silence, wanting to be sure no one else was awake.

He was met with the same quietness, so he relaxed and opened the book to the third chapter, where he had stopped reading when Scorpius caught him earlier.

_"The Second War was not a pleasant time for the magical community. They turned on themselves, often sabotaging their only roads to hope. One young man remained strong in the face of a collapsing regime, and that young man was Harry James Potter. The Daily Prophet had once referred to him as, 'Undesirable No. 1', among many other unflattering names that were meant to belittle his importance. The truth emerged some years later that the former Dark Lord, Voldemort, was behind this slanderous campaign."_

Albus stopped reading, slamming the book shut with an aggravated sigh.

His father, the great Harry Potter, rarely liked to talk about his schooldays; Al spent most of his childhood in awe of the man – or perhaps it was the legend – but his father did little to feed that admiration. He would often downplay his accomplishments, adamantly repeating to his son that it was mostly _luck _that helped him. He wanted his son to stay away from literature about the War, and although his eldest, James, was content with following orders, Al wanted to know more. There was a thirst in him.

The more he discovered, however, a bitterness began to grow beneath his chest, like a sleeping monster. _How could the wizarding world have been so cruel to my dad_? Albus thought as he sat on his bed, staring at the closed cover of the book. _He saved them all, he protected them, he would have sacrificed himself for everyone. They were so horrible to you, dad_.

He closed his eyes, reflexively putting a hand to his face, holding the bridge of his nose with this thumb and index finger. These thoughts had plagued him every night for the past two weeks, and the more he read the less sleep he managed. Suddenly Albus emitted a low growl, tightening his grip on the book before tossing it across his bed. It flew through the curtains, landing on what he presumed to be his trunk with a careless _thud_.

His mother, Ginny Potter, had warned him once about how dangerous a simple book could be, so Albus resolved to put the literature out of his head, and never read the book again. Surrendering to a restless sleep, he tucked himself under the sheets and tossed and turned until the dawn came.

An hour after Albus had fallen asleep, a certain blond haired Slytherin snuck back in to bed, muttering to himself as he collected the sheets around his tall, lean body, and having a dispute with his pillows as he fluffed them aggressively.

* * *

Morning came surprisingly quick to Rose Weasley as she rolled over in her bed, suddenly hitting the ground with a thud. Sitting up quickly, she put a hand to her head and groaned.

Somewhere from behind her drawn curtains, a cheery voice interrupted her rude awakening.

"Rose – Rosie," the voice paused to laugh, "was that _you_?"

"Yes," she called back sheepishly, recognizing the voice to be one of her good mates, Michele Blanchard. "Misjudged the distance. Sleepy." She explained herself in short, tired sounding sentences. Stifling a yawn as she stood, Rose pulled back the curtains, squinting as she did so.

"Why is it so bloody _bright _in here, every morning?"

"It's not even breakfast and you're complaining already," Michele gave Rose a pointed look, now clearly visible as she sat on her bed, fully dressed with her hair tied back.

A few of the other girls spoke in hushed tones, casting uncomfortable side-glances at Michele as they did so, to which Rose responded by picking up her slipper and hurling it at the cluster of dark haired Gryffindors. "Oi!" Rose shouted at them, "we're not bloody deaf! _We can still hear a whisper_!"

The girls jumped, certainly not looking to start a problem with Rose Weasley (a problem with Rose meant a problem with Albus and Scorpius), and ushered themselves out of the Dormitory.

"I don't know why they do that," Rose said angrily, moving to the foot of her bed and opening her trunk. Michele had not said anything yet, and the redhead let her sit in silence. Unlike the rest of their house, Rose understood Michele's abrasiveness; it was not combative, or insulting, but merely a way to filter people out.

Hugo, Rose's younger brother, was a proud owner of this personality trait, so she had a lot of experience handling curt replies and standoffish or sometimes rude comments. Though, she never understood why that was cause to whisper behind Michele's back. Vivane Montague was the biggest gossip in the history of Gryffindor, and yet people were still polite to her. It irked Rose, how horrible the girls would treat Michele, but her friend never seemed to stick up for herself. She fell silent in the face of battle; Rose accredited her disinterest in fighting back to the unimportance of their words.

"Good for you," Rose finally said, having procured a clean uniform for her trunk, "rising above. I'm awful at that sort of thing," she laughed.

Michele blinked, apparently having been thinking about something else the whole time, and she nodded. "Sure, yeah. Hey," the girl stood from her bed, revealing her rather short frame, "are you sitting at our table at lunch today? There's a few things I wanted to show you."

Rose had begun changing, comfortable in the presence of another female as she slid off her nightgown and began fiddling with the zipper of her skirt. Michele's face turned exceedingly red, but Rose did not notice.

"I think it's still a Slytherin day. Sorry, love," Reece gave a noncommittal shrug, offering a roguish grin that mirrored one Scorpius often flashed her.

Michele stood there for a moment, a subtle but still visible crestfallen look on her face as Rose shimmied into her skirt, zipping it up and beginning to button up her blouse. "Yeah, of course. I keep forgetting when you guys alternate." The girl laughed, though she was lying to Rose. "See you in Transfiguration?"

Rose looked up as she finished the last button, now fiddling with her tie. "Of course. I swear, you're going to be the reason I pass that class. Who knew, out of all the subjects, I'd be bloody _miserable _at transfiguration?" Rose giggled.

"You're not miserable at anything, Rosie." Michele said quietly, though the redhead was too lost in adjusting her tie. Grabbing her bag, she lingered at the door a moment before calling out, "bye!"

"Oh," Rose said quickly, looking up from her now perfectly aligned tie, "yeah, see you!"

She stuck an arm back in her trunk, feeling around until she could find a clean pair of socks, and put them on in a rush. Rose _hated _being late, and she had overslept this morning.

_Why did I oversleep_? Rose felt the question emerge, but it was gone before she could grasp it, a forgotten whisper in the wind.

Grabbing her book-bag, Rose slid on her shoes as she walked towards the staircase leading to the Common Room. Standing awkwardly by the fire was Jeremy Wood; he looked up when he heard footfalls, and his face seemed to brighten when he spotted Rose.

Giving him a polite wave, she slung her bag over her shoulder as she reached the foot of the stairs. Jeremy moved from the fireplace to the spot next to her, offering his hand.

"Err," Rose was unsure of what to say, "I have this condition. My palms sweat, all the time," she lied, hoping the lack of femininity would send Jeremy running for someone more suited for him, like Michele.

Suddenly Rose gasped, grabbing onto Jeremy's arm without warning. "I have someone I want you to meet. Be in the Common Room tonight around 8." She nodded her head, holding on to his arm for just a moment to make sure he complied. Jeremy looked confused, but he nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll be here," the boy said, unsure of his words.

"Good boy," Rose grinned, patting his cheek twice before half running for the portrait hole, leaving him still feeling the place on his cheek where her hand just was.

She rushed to the Great Hall, certain that she would find her two favorite boys prepared with an angry rant about her tardiness, but it seemed the two boys were listlessly poking at their food.

"Hey, why so glum?" Rose plopped down across the two boys, greeting them with a cheery grin.

"Oh, Merlin," Scorpius looked up and winced at her happy expression, as though it literally _pained_ him, "who drugged _your_ morning Pumpkin Juice?"

"Who didn't drug yours?" Rose fired back, still grinning.

"Had a good night, did you?" Scorpius finally said back, in a quiet voice. He kept his eyes fixated on the eggs in front of him, which he'd moved around to look like something rather inappropriate.

"I," Rose began, thinking her blond best mate was just inquiring, but she suddenly realized that she could not _recall_ how her night ended; only that she slept soundly, and fell off her bed in the morning. "I fell asleep by the fire," Rose lied, though a sliver of fear was betrayed in her unsure tone. It was entirely possible that she had in fact fallen asleep in the Common Room, but without a memory to accompany the claim Rose felt unsettled lying to her best mates.

It seemed Scorpius shared the sentiment. "Oh, really?" He snorted, slamming his fork down. For a moment he looked as if he were going to storm off, but something overcame his angry features, smoothing them out. Drawing in a breath, Scorpius reemerged with a crooked grin, dropping his fork and sliding his free hand across the table to rest on top of Rose's. "The moon's supposed to be at it's largest tonight. Sneak up to the Astronomy Tower with me to see it?"

"Yeah, of course," Rose said in a slightly skeptical voice. They never had to _ask_ each other to hang out; as a trio of best mates, it was implied. "Al, you're coming too right?" She turned her gaze to him. He had not said a single word yet, and the question seemed to startle him out of a reverie. "Oh, I don't think I can make it. I have plans."

Both Scorpius and Rose were taken aback, letting go of eachother's hands and turning to their friend.

"_Plans_? Since when do you make _plans_, Potter?" Scorpius asked mockingly.

"Since I decided to ask KC out." Albus said in a defensive tone.

"You _what_?" Rose half squealed, knocking over her fork as she reached across the table excitedly to pinch her cousin's cheek. "Al's going to become a man tonight." She waggled her brows.

Scorpius mirrored her enthusiasm, clapping his best friend on the back. "Do you need me to explain anything to you? Because, I'm quite the expert at this sort of thing."

"No, you're not," Albus fired back, clearly annoyed by their reactions. "It's just a date. I haven't even asked her yet."

"You should wait until Hogsmeade weekend," Rose said, finally offering something of value. "It's kind of hard to have a 'date' in the castle."

"Untrue," Scorpius said indignantly.

"Prove me wrong," Rose laughed, finally picking up her fork from the ground and swapping it with the utensil set next to her. She poked at Scorp's eggs, just now noticing their inappropriate shape. "Really?" She giggled.

"Fine, I will."

"Will what, Scorp?" Rose did not look up from his eggs as she asked, still poking at them.

"Prove you wrong. Tonight. You and I are going on a date in the castle."

And with that, he stood up, moved his plate in front of her, and walked off wordlessly.

Rose and Albus looked at each other, and after a moment of silence they both said:

"Bloody Malfoys."

* * *

Halfway down the table, another Slytherin named Hawke moved around the food on his plate, leaning just slightly to the left as he overheard the entire conversation between Scorpius, Albus, and Rose. He stood once Scorpius left, leaving an untouched plate of food and walking towards the Entrance Hall, passing by Rose as he went. As his arm delicately brushed against her back, Rose spun around quickly, feeling a strangely disconcerting shiver. She spotted his back, and the same reaction that overcame her yesterday happened again. Her pupils dilated, and her mouth hung slightly open. Turning to Al, she clapped a hand over his and whispered excitedly, "who is _that_?"

To which her cousin replied with a very confused expression.


	5. Detective Draco

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Five**:  
"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes." - Oscar Wilde

"Rose, what do you mean, _who is that_? You just…. I thought you already…"

Albus Potter desperately searched for words as he became increasingly worried, staring across the Slytherin table at his cousin who seemed to think Al had sprouted an extra head.

"_What _are you on about?" Rose laughed, but her eyes kept moving from Al to the Entrance Hall, where she had last seen the boy who walked past them. There was something so familiar about his walk, she felt compelled to follow him but Albus was relentless in keeping her there. He had moved his hands to grip both of hers tightly, effectively anchoring her to the dining table.

"Stop, stop it. You're not going anywhere. He's bad, remember? Kills squirrels." Al sounded slightly irritated.

"He kills squirrels?" Rose asked dubiously.

"I told you this yesterday!" Albus threw his hands up in exasperation. "Don't you remember, Rosie?"

Rose paused, furrowing her brows as she tried to recall dinner yesterday but it only came in fragments. It was almost as though someone had gone through her memory and cut out little snippets, leaving her with a blanket full of holes, and no wiser for it. She recalled Scorp's question from earlier about how she spent her night, and again there were gaps. Squinting, as she often did when trying to remember something important, Rose slumped forward on the table, resting her chin over her clenched hands.

Suddenly she felt an unforgiving smack in the face, like a tidal wave of emotion, and it nearly knocked her off the bench.

_How in the heck did I forget_? Rose thought frantically to herself, trying to gather her composure so Albus would not suspect anything. _I've been waiting two weeks for that letter_! She continued in her head, straightening up in her seat and avoiding eye contact with her cousin. _How could I forget to check the Owlrey yesterday_?

She frowned, squinting again as she tried to remember the events of yesterday morning. There were brief flashes of a cold wind pushing her down the stone steps; somewhere in the haze of recollections she saw a tiny letter but it slipped away as quickly as it appeared.

_You already have it_.

A small voice spoke out against the cacophony of thoughts in her head. Rose tried to grab onto it, but just like everything else it slipped away like sand through smooth fingers.

Standing up quickly, she accidentally knocked over her glass. "Ah, bollocks," she cursed as she picked it up, leaving the spilled liquid as she slid out of her seat. "I've got to go, Al. Tell Scorpius when you see him that I've got to talk to him. It's urgent."

Albus looked at his cousin with extreme worry, standing up to stop her, but she held a hand up and stepped back. "No, _no_. Don't be like James."

That was enough to silence her cousin, and he sank to his seat, finding far more hurt in Rose's words than she intended.

* * *

Rose took off in the wake of the Slytherin boy she could not stop looking at earlier. The last place she had seen his towering silhouette was as he slipped out of the Great Hall; finding him would be a feat, but not an impossible one. As she exited the Great Hall, unaware of the pain she had left Albus to sit and marinate in, something told her to detour left. Always one to follow her instinct, Rose allowed the gut feeling to lead her out the castle doors, and she abandoned all thoughts of time and class and responsibility as she began her manhunt across the Grounds. After twenty minutes of running into couples sneaking out the Courtyard for a quick snog, Rose heard the distant ringing of the class bell, letting her know that she was late.

Cursing loudly, she gave up on finding the young Slytherin and ran for the castle entrance, praying that Professor Vignon would not be angry at her for arriving late to Transfiguration.

* * *

Scorpius had purposely left breakfast in a rush, hoping that his two best mates would blame it on his last name and its desire to always make an exit, but in truth he had to flee the scene before Rose noticed the red tinge in his cheeks. He had, without meaning to, asked her out on a proper date in front of the entire Slytherin table. Scorpius found comfort in the thought that Rose was still oblivious to his feelings, but after tonight that might change.

He knew what he saw last night. That _Hawke_ boy – man – whatever he was – had dropped Rose off by her window, and she had been sleeping when he carried her through, presumably leaving her peacefully on her four poster. Scorpius knew his best mate, and she would _not_ let anyone coddle her or carry her around like a damsel in a stupid muggle children's movie, so he became highly suspicious. Hawke never returned to the Slytherin Common Room that night, which caused Scorpius to immediately owl home, after retrieving the boy's first name with much effort (it was Garrett) to inquire about the Hawke family. If they were pureblood strongholds, Draco Malfoy would know about them. If they had any dirty secrets, Draco Malfoy would most likely be the one keeping them.

After the War, he was the only former Death Eater that had sympathy for both sides, and many people sought him out for advice, or protection. In an effort to reverse all his previous wrong-doings, Draco acted as a guide of sorts to his fallen former comrades, helping them rehabilitate and gain respect in the magical society again.

Though, Scorpius suspected his father's hands were not entirely clean; which made him an excellent source of information. If something sinister was going on, and this Hawke fellow was trying to drag Rose into it, the young Malfoy would know.

His first stop after leaving his friends at breakfast in a hurry was the Owlrey. Draco Malfoy was always punctual when it came to returning letters.

Scorpius neglected to bring his cloak, deciding that he would fight through the early October weather in an effort to build character. His father always said that pain only brings a man better understanding of himself. The wind was especially unforgiving that morning, and Scorp suspected the gods were involved in some elaborate plot to make his life difficult.

He silently sent a curse up their way as he trudged up the Owlrey steps.

Waiting for him was his wide-eyed barn owl, Apollo, and there was a rather thin note attached to his leg. Scorpius frowned; he had expected a full detailed report on the Hawke family, not a tiny rolled up piece of parchment. Approaching his bird dubiously, the blond reached out and yanked the letter from Apollo's leg before the bird had a chance to snap his beak; he was rather hostile towards his owner, but Scorpius was too lazy to buy a new owl. He rather liked the feisty personality; it reminded him a bit of Rose…

Opening the letter, Scorpius smoothed it out and held it against the stone wall. He flattened the edges, squinting just a bit against the wind to get a proper read:

_My son,_

_I have taken your inquiry and considered it, and all I can say to you is this: whatever the Hawke family is doing_,_** do not get in the way**__. I advise you to avoid Garrett Hawke, and allow him to do whatever it is he likes. I repeat, whatever he is doing, __**do not get in the way**__. I know you think Rose Weasley is very important to you, but trust me when I say this, __**it is for the best**__._

Signed with affection,  
Your father, D.T.M.

Scorpius stared at the letter in shock, his fingertips alight with panic as they traced over the words until he was certain they were burned into his head. The most unsettling part of the whole thing was _Rose_. He had made no mention of her in his letter to his father.

_What in the bloody name of Merlin's flying underpants is going on_? Scorpius slumped against the Owlrey's stone entrance, crumpling the letter between his slender, pale fingers.

* * *

Albus had spent the rest of breakfast sitting alone at the Slytherin table, lost in his thoughts as he poked at his food, unaware of how lifeless his expression had become. After some time he heard footsteps approaching, but he did not bother to look up.

They seemed to pause next to him, and just before Al could find the strength to investigate, the person made themselves known.

"You look like your owl just died," KC's smooth voice interrupted his mourning, taking the empty seat next to him that was previously occupied by Scorpius.

"Worse," Albus said in a sad voice, putting his cheek in the palm of his hand and sliding it up against the skin, distorting his face and causing him to lisp as he spoke. "I think my best mates hate me. They all just ran away from breakfast. Who cares about Al?" He emitted a low growl, warming to his subject, "look at me, I'm Rose Weasley, _everybody_ has a crush on me but I pretend to be too innocent and cool to notice. Oh, I'm Scorpius Malfoy, my father modeled for Witch Weekly, I'm really smart and attractive and girls don't even notice my best friend Albus in my presence because he's plain and brunette and generally uninteresting."

He had mocked each friend in a voice that in no way suited them but emphasized his point of irritation. Rose had been a high pitched girly sound and Scorpius had been a deep, muggle wrestling announcer type voice.

KC remained quiet in the minute following Al's rant, allowing him some time to breathe. Finally, she raised a hand up and placed it on his forearm, squeezing it gently.

"I don't think you're plain or generally uninteresting, and between you and me," she leaned in to whisper, "blond boys are overrated." Pulling back, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him a brief but clearly flirtatious smile. "Blond girls, however, are the new thing. We're all the rage amongst Quidditch stars and ex-Witch Weekly models," she grinned, poking fun at Scorpius' father.

"You're trying to make me feel better," Albus said, taking his hand off his cheek.

"Is it working?" She laughed.

Albus paused, considering his response. Earlier at breakfast he had been only half serious about asking her out, but when the opportunity presented so easily he could not turn a blind eye. Drawing in a courageous breath, he gave her a crooked grin and put his hand over hers, as it still rested on his forearm.

"It will if you agree to be my date at the next Hogsmeade weekend."

KC gave him a sweet smile, leaning forward and resting her chin over his hand, as they know created a mountain of intertwined fingers all balancing on Al's forearm. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm in love with Rose. Sorry." She grinned, giving a small chuckle and ruffling his hair as she stood.

Albus betrayed a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced down awkwardly at his lap. "Love making fun of me, don't you?"

He looked back up, after not hearing a response, and realized that she was already gone. Suddenly Albus forgot why he had been in such a sour mood before, and he stood up, pushing his plate forward as he slid off the bench, exiting the Great Hall with a surprisingly calm smile on his face.

* * *

Transfiguration had gone by at an impossibly slow pace, though Rose was in no mood to complain; the Professor had easily ignored her tardiness, a good grace she somehow felt Michele was responsible for as the girl sent her a wink and mouthed 'you're welcome' across the classroom. Rose took to drawing idle scenes in the corner of her parchment, and by the end of class she had fallen asleep with the quill still in her hand.

Michele approached, letting Rose remain in her peaceful slumber for just a moment as she observed the girl's features. She had first seen Rose in King's Cross Station their third year, and something about the wild mane of curly red hair made Michele feel a flutter in her stomach.

If it had not been for Rose Weasley, Michele Blanch may never have realized _why_ she felt a tingling in her chest every time she stood too close to a girl. It had been an impossible battle to accept the fate of her feelings, but Michele was much stronger now than she was in her third year. She came to be at peace with the reality of her situation, and found that there was some beauty in it.

Peering over her red haired friend's slumbering head as it lolled to the side, just barely balancing in the palm of her hand, Michele gasped when she saw what was drawn in the corners of Rose's parchment.

"Rosie!" She shook her friend, causing Rose to snap awake.

"What? What? I'm awake, I wasn't sleeping, Professor, I was just… oh, Chele. Hey." Rose yawned, glancing down at her hand. "Bollocks!" She threw the quill down, examining the side of her palm, which was now covered in ink.

"What is _that_?" Chele asked worriedly, pointing at the drawings. Rose's eyes followed the concerned inquiry and she gasped.

In the corner of her Transfiguration parchment there was a drawing of Rose in her nightgown, suspended in the air by two very strong hands, connected to a body and a face that she recognized so well. The boy from breakfast.

"I have no… clue…." Rose finally answered her friend's question, feeling that, although it seemed like the truth, there was a possibility that she knew _exactly _what this scene was. Standing quickly, she gathered the parchment and stuffed it in her bag as she brushed past Michele, offering a curt goodbye.

"Gotta go."

Michele was left there, holding her breath as she watched Rose walk off, wondering why she let someone who clearly cared so little about her feelings mean so much to them.


	6. Dark Magic: The Apple In The Tree

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Six**  
"But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold." - Oliver Wendell Holmes

Rose had taken off after Transfiguration, feeling slight residual guilt for abandoning Michele mid-conversation, but the girl never seemed to get upset with Rose so she assumed this was no exception to that tacit forgiveness. She had to reach the Owlrey before her next class, which gave her exactly twenty minutes.

That happened to be just enough time to reach the Owlrey and scan its rather cold surroundings for Gambit, her elf-owl. He was sitting in the top right most corner, pleasantly nibbling on some food. Rose whistled, and the owl's head snapped up from its meal, hooting loudly as it flapped its wings and flew down towards her outstretched arm.

Landing delicately, the bird nuzzled itself in Rose's hair, and she tutted, offering her finger for Gambit to nibble.

"Good boy," she said, forcing a smile. It was always better to be diplomatic with one's pets, otherwise they might end up like Scorp's owl, Apollo; biting the owner every chance they get.

In a quick motion, Rose lifted the bird's tail and checked to see if there was anything tied to its legs. She frowned upon seeing them bare, though something caught her attention. Lifting her arm just a bit, she let Gambit continue to bury himself in her curly red mane as she scrutinized his ankles. There were strange abrasions, which Rose slowly reached a finger up to rub gently. The bird hooted and instinctively moved to bite her, but she pushed him off her arm before he could reach. Flying back up to his previous sanctuary in the right corner, Gambit turned away from his owner and hooted softly.

Though she could not explain why, Rose Weasley was certain they were burn marks.

The rest of the day had been a dull haze for Scorpius Malfoy; the only thing he clearly remembered thinking about was Rose. His father's letter was the backdrop of his unfocused eyes as he pretended to pay attention through all his classes. _Why_ had he mentioned Rose in his letter? Scorpius had gone over the contents of his own message to his father until he was certain there was no room for anything else in his head, and there was _no _indication of Rose being involved. He had simply asked his father why the Hawke family's son was absent so often from the Common Room.

_Does my dad know something_? Scorpius thought to himself, feeling a bubble of anger rising in his chest. The Malfoy family was notorious for keeping secrets from each other, though Scorp had considered his father to rise above the tacit crest. He really _hated _being lied to.

He intentionally skipped lunch, not sure if he would be able to face Rose without shouting at her and demanding she cease all form of contact with Garrett Hawke. The Gryffindor team had Quidditch practice tonight, so he would wait for her afterwards. As he ate a makeshift meal on his four poster in the Slytherin boy's dormitory, Scorpius began constructing a plan to use his "date" with Rose tonight as an anti-Hawke campaign. He had to convince her to stay away from him.

What Scorpius did not know, however, is that Rose skipped lunch as well. She had gone through her morning classes that day with little interest to the subjects. Instead, she continued drawing in the margins of her parchment, allowing the quill to dictate her artistry. The same image appeared in all her drawings; she was held up in the air by the Slytherin boy, clad in her nightgown and looking rather calm in his arms. Though Rose had no memory of the scene, she was sure it happened.

When lunchtime finally came, Rose skipped out on meeting Albus and Scorpius at the Slytherin table, and instead took to extending her manhunt from that morning. A tiny voice that fought back against the holes of memory regarding the last few days in her head urged Rose to keep looking; somehow, this Slytherin and her letter were connected.

She _had _to have that letter.

Rose checked the Library first, using her surprisingly good relationship with Madame Pince to gain access wherever she wanted. The woman loved to spend hours talking about how Rose's mother, Hermione, had been her favorite student; she often made comparisons, making her satisfaction known that Hermione's only daughter was just as interested in books as she was in her school days. Of course, they had different haunts; Rose spent most of her time in the Forbidden Section.

One of the perks of being the top ranked student in her class was access to it, without any teacher restriction. After the second War, many of the bans in Hogwarts were lifted, though the Forbidden Section restrictions were the last to go. Neville Longbottom wrote a long letter to the school, before he was chosen to be a Professor, expressing his concern that the magical youth was too sheltered, which is what caused such panic during the Dark Lord's regime. Educating the masses was the key to keeping the peace, he argued. Within the week the restrictions were lifted.

Though this may have been a progressive step for the school, it was perhaps the nail in Rose Weasley's premature coffin.

In her second year, she took an interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts; it was not the combative part that intrigued her, but rather the Dark Arts themselves. It was a quiet fixation, one that did not stir any trouble outside of losing sleep from staying up late and reading so many books. Rose never endeavored to divulge her secret to anyone, knowing full well what it would mean to a family of Weasleys. It seemed everyone in her household was hypersensitive to the words 'Dark Arts'. She could hardly break her parents' hearts by revealing that their only daughter found the very thing they hated to be seductive and alluring.

The full access to the restricted section only fueled this dangerous fire, and could perhaps be the exact reason why Rose was searching the aisles so frantically for a mysterious Slytherin boy.

Pausing for a moment to catch her breath, Rose slumped in the nearest couch, putting her head between her hands and emitting a tiny, surrendering groan.

She recalled the afternoon that she stumbled upon the book that caused her this much trouble. It was plain looking, wedged between a manual on Dark Arts Alchemy and a detailed account of the Second War from a former Death Eater's point of view; Rose had been tempted by its unimportant appearance.

She slid the book out from between its captors, eying the cover. The title read, '_Dark Magic: The Apple in the Tree_.

In the corner, barely visible after so many years of neglect, was the author's name: **Icarus Fitzwarbler**.

Rose had laughed upon reading the name, feeling her curiosity heightened; though no teacher policed the comings and goings of the top student, she was still required to sign out each book she took, so the Library did not suspect its students of stealing. She had scribbled her name so quickly, impatient to begin reading the book as she skipped dinner that night to delve into its contents.

Every Dark Magic book she had previously read was careful to leave a disclaimer, often times insisting that Dark Magic, or sometimes called Practical Magic, was a sinner's calling. The books were informative, but biased, and Rose yearned for something to satiate her true feelings.

She found Dark Magic to be sensual, and teasing. There was always an untamed desire when she read; as Rose grew older, she moved out of the realms of theories and thirsted to _try _her knowledge.

Still, she was no fool to the consequences, nor to the evil Dark Magic possessed. Rose saw it as a misunderstood mistress, cast aside by the Ministry after a few mistakes.

If anything is not properly loved, it will go bad; Rose believed this strongly, and used it as her anchor to the goodness in her heart, despite how deep she dove into the supposed evil world of dark magic.

As she sat tiredly in the chair, head still sadly held up by her hands, Rose tried to recall the first few chapters she read.

_Dark Magic is often categorized as something evil. Though by nature it is designed to be a powerful force, there is nothing inherently evil about its existence. Men kill men, magic does not. In this first chapter, we will examine the history of Dark Magic…_

She began to feel herself dozing off in the armchair, head slowly rolling to the side.

_There is a fable that was once often told to young children, meant to scare them away from practices of Dark Magic, about its origin. It is said that this magic was born from the ugliest evil on earth. Seven days, and seven of the most powerful demons – sometimes referred to as Crowne Demons, in old literature – slaved over this magic until it was created. These Seven demons protect the existence of Dark Magic, making it impossible to vanquish it entirely. Where there is good, there must always be evil. Dark Magic was created in order to secure a balance in the world…_

Rose had completely fallen asleep, lost in the words of the book as she remembered them; they came to her in bursts, like quick auditory dreams.

_In this chapter we will be examining the residual effects of Dark Magic on its reputation. There is a popularized belief that Merlin created a force just before his death meant to combat Dark Magic. He did not believe that it was necessary to balance the universe, and he spent the better part of his life attempting to vanquish it. As every other powerful wizard before him, he came to realize that Dark Magic cannot be abolished; so instead, he built a task force of sorts. This is widely accepted to be a myth, as no such force has emerged in history, but it is an interesting story. Supposedly, seven families approached the powerful wizard, asking if they could help his plight to destroy the greatest evil. Merlin told them that there was nothing they could do, but if they were willing to offer their lineage, a deal could be made. He blessed each woman of the family (see chapter 13 for the seven family names), giving them a gift that would not emerge for quite some time._

In her reverie, Rose felt something touch her shoulder, but she did not move. Suddenly she began feeling her body shake, and she snapped to attention, awake and aware that she was not alone.

Looking up, she recognized the face connected to the hand that had shaken her.

"I've been looking for you." She said simply.

Hawke furrowed his brows, seemingly taken back by this statement. "Why?" He managed to say, after some silence.

"I don't know. But I keep drawing these," she reached into her knapsack, pulling out the stacks of parchment with the sketches of the two of them. Letting him observe them, Rose leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. In the most nonchalant voice she could muster, Rose asked, "do you have my letter?"

She heard the crinkling of paper and looked up; Hawke's face was seized with an expression of panic, as he nearly destroyed her drawings in his clenched hands. "Sorry," he quickly said, smoothing out the papers and handing them back to her. He turned to leave, but just before the young man paused and put a hand on Rose's shoulder.

"How do you know that? How do you know about your letter?"

"Well, I was the one who sent Icarus Fitzwarbler the inquiry in the first place. I think I'd _remember_ that he owes me a reply. I mean, it's not like my memory's been obliviated or anything." Rose rolled her eyes.

Hawke's face softened, as he emitted a tiny laugh. "Not quite."

"Why do you always talk in riddles?" Rose pressed him, using every second she had. Something told her he was in the habit of walking off at the most inopportune moments.

"I don't mean to," he said slowly. "Rose, I want you to listen to me carefully."

"How do you know my name?" She began standing slowly, narrowing her gaze on him.

"Please, just listen to me." Hawke stepped closer to her, grabbing her elbows and lifting her up so that she stood straight. Staring directly into her eyes, he spoke in a low but steady voice, "Stay away from all this. Do not pursue Icarus Fitzwarbler. Forget what you read." As he spoke, his eyes flooded with a strange gray haze. "Do not remember this conversation. Forget everything that has to do with the book—."

"No!" Rose suddenly shouted, shaking her head and putting her hands up to her ears, as though the culprit was inside her head. "NO!"

Last night she had been weak; tired and drunk with lack of sleep, but today there was a fierceness in Rose Weasley that Hawke had not calculated for. Taking a few scared steps back, she did not lower her hands from her ears, but instead shouted at the Slytherin boy.

"I know what that is! My Uncle Harry taught me! How – _how _are you doing that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hawke said in an even tone, stepping forward and trying to calm Rose by gripping her wrists. She reluctantly lowered her hands from her ears, but the anger was building behind her green eyes.

"You don't have a _wand_," she nearly hissed, "_how _in the bloody heck are you doing that? I know what the Imperius Curse feels like. I've been trained to fight it," she said indignantly, puffing out her shoulders a bit.

"You're a lot stronger than I thought," Hawke suddenly laughed, letting go of her wrists. "I think you and I should talk."

"Yes," Rose said stiffly, eying his taller frame, "I think we should."


	7. Don't Underestimate Me

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**:  
"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell." - Oscar Wilde

Hawke slowly offered his outstretched palm to Rose, smiling to emphasize his good intentions. The expression looked rather odd to her, considering she had only seen neutral and panicked looks cross his face; though, Rose had to admit, he was extremely attractive when he was not lost in thought. She ignored the idea quickly, however, and took his hand with a cautious expression. Hawke began to lead them out of the library, seemingly unaware of the whispers that erupted in their wake. Rose, on the other hand, was hypersensitive to them.

As they walked, Hawke spoke to her quietly. "Sorry about being so standoffish. I wasn't supposed to make myself known to you," they reached the Library doors and he held one open for her, "but it looks like Icarus underestimated you," he finished with a bemused expression.

Rose faltered her step at his words. "You know Icarus Fitzwarbler?"

Hawke appeared to be confused for a moment, but he did not pause before answering her. "I know that you wrote him a letter, I know why. I'm here to tell you to leave it alone, though I doubt you will." He laughed.

His words were only half truths, but Rose was ignorant to the reality of Hawke's relationship with Icarus, so the Slytherin boy saw no harm in filtering the information she received.

"Why do you want me to leave it alone?" Rose asked, choosing her words carefully. If Hawke was telling the truth, then she would have to make him her friend, because an enemy with too much knowledge was an achilles heel.

"It's not your place," he said simply.

"What is with you and all these cryptic sayings? I'm beginning to think you don't even have a personality," she said defensively, beginning to walk down the hall without checking to see if he followed.

Hawke smiled, though Rose did not see, and he gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's my job, I don't know how else to explain. And," he began walking to catch up with her. "I _do _have a personality, you know."

Rose scoffed. "Imagine my surprise."

"If we're asking questions, then why are _you _so rude?" Hawke put his hands in his pocket, falling into stride with her and trying to hide his amusement. Rose was endearing to him; he was not allowed to have contact with her, even this conversation was a huge risk. Still, Garrett Hawke was no stranger to disobeying orders.

She was caught off guard by his question, stopping as they reached the end of the hallway and giving him a skeptical expression.

"Because you _stole_ something of mine, you're clearly some _insane_ breed of wizard because you can perform magic without a wand—."

Hawke clapped his hand over her mouth, though not with much force. Rose jumped, startled, but she did not fight back. Instead she shot him an annoyed look and threw her hands up in a surrendering fashion.

He lowered his fingers, allowing her room to breathe, but if she spoke his palm would muffle it.

Rose nodded her head furiously, letting him know that she understood.

"You can't tell anyone," Hawke said slowly as he lowered his hand.

Her head snapped, looking at him as though he had just admitted to being a woman, or something equally shocking and unbelievable.

"Why would you want to keep that secret? That's—," she paused, leaning in to whisper, "that's bloody ace. I'd do anything to be able to do that," her eyes went to his, watching them with an almost hunger, but it was not for _him_, rather what he could do.

Hawke furrowed his brows, pushing Rose away from him gently. "This is not something I would wish on anyone. Rose, I will only repeat myself once: do not tell anyone. If you do, there will be consequences."

"Are you threatening me?" She put her hands on her hips.

"No, _no_," Hawke sighed, "The consequences won't be my doing. I'm telling you this to protect you."

"Why?"

"What?" Hawke blinked, offering a blank expression in hopes that she would not press her question.

"Why are you trying to protect me?" Rose kept her hands on her hips, watching him with unwavering eyes.

"Don't worry," he laughed, "you're not that special."

Rose scowled, stepping forward and looking up at him, attempting to be intimidating though she fell short, literally. "Listen… whatever your name is, whoever you are, leave me the heck alone. I'll get my letter back one way or another. Clearly," Rose huffed, taking one hand off her hip to poke him in the chest, "you've never met Rose Weasley."

With that, she turned around and headed for the nearest staircase, leaving Hawke alone in the hallway.

As soon as she was no longer visible, his face fell. Garrett Hawke was not a mean person; in fact, he hardly knew how to be unlikable, but he had to follow orders. If Rose Weasley was going to live, she needed to mind her own business, and although Hawke was following explicit orders, he was willing to go beyond the necessary means to keep her safe.

After he was left alone for ten minutes or so, he drew in a steadying breath and headed toward the same staircase Rose had angrily walked down. Trying to clear his head, he replaced thoughts of Icarus Fitzwarbler and Merlin and all the other things that drove his daily life with his sister, Maria. Hawke had promised to meet her in the Courtyard before dinner, and he _never _broke a promise to his sister.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Rose Weasley skipped class. She abandoned all her afternoon subjects for a much more pressing endeavor; finding out who this mysterious Slytherin really was.

The Library had been her default setting, but once she realized Madame Pince would be the first to notice her misplaced interest in books while she _should _be in class, Rose took to sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower with a stack of personal books. Ever since the debacle with Albus last semester, the Tower had been closed off for students.

As she climbed the ladder to the heavily decorated room, Rose suddenly remembered that she promised to have a date with Scorpius that evening in the Astronomy Tower. Pulling her knapsack along with her, she moved upward.

Breakfast seemed like a hundred years ago. She sighed, pulling herself over the last rung and gathering up the ladder before sealing the entrance. Rose was certain, in that moment, that she would not make to to her "date" tonight.

_It's not like Scorp was serious about the 'date' part_, she thought to herself reassuringly, but a tiny voice contradicted the statement.

_Of course he was. Would you like it if someone stood you up_?

Rose made a pained face, lost for a moment in her internal battle.

_I'm not standing him up! He'll understand…_

_If you say so_.

Rose let out a frustrated groan, slamming her hand down on the Astronomy Tower's fabric covered floor, as though she were silencing her inner thoughts with a loud _smack_.

She miscalculated the force behind her irritation, however, and yelped when she felt her palm sting. Pulling the injured hand to her chest, she cradled it, still sitting on the floor.

_Rose, you look like an idiot_, her inner monologue started again.

"Shut UP!" She shouted, almost moving to slam her hand down again before remembering it was injured.

"But I didn't say anything!" An indignant voice replied, coming from the other side of the room.

Startled, Rose nearly shot herself against the wall behind her as she scooted away. "Who's there?" She called out.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," the voice laughed, clearly male, "I mean no harm. Besides, _you _are the one who showed up unannounced. I think that means you have to tell me your name first."

Rose narrowed her eyes, slowly standing up and holding her knapsack close to her. Walking to the center of the room, she kept a shrewd eye on the windows as she called out, again, "who's there?"

"Merlin," the voice replied, and suddenly a young man popped out from behind a rather large dresser, "are you _daft_? I was here first. So, stranger," he smirked, leaning against the dresser, "who are _you_?"

He was tall, almost impossibly attractive, and appeared to be older than a student's age, with street clothing and a rather bemused expression. Rose did not answer for a few seconds, and he took the time to examine his nails, still smirking.

Finally she spoke, her voice mirroring a confidence that she did not have. "Vivane Montague."

The boy tutted, running his thumb over the top joints of his fingers, "Liar liar, you know what they say," he looked up, and there was a twinkle in his eye. Suddenly Rose felt extreme heat coming from her skirt, and she looked down… only to find the fabric engulfed in flames.

Rose yelped, immediately swatting the growing red and orange fire as it worked its way up the hemline of her skirt. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She shouted, dropping to the ground and rolling back and forth in an attempt to suffocate the flames. Her mother had taught her this technique the summer before her fourth year; Ron had labeled it a useless muggle's trick, but Rose felt it was anything but useless in that moment.

"Oh, relax," the young man laughed, straightening himself up and walking towards her. Rose noticed his eyes twinkle again, and the fire no longer existed. Instead, her skirt was only half there, the singed ends almost paralleled with her knickers.

"You," Rose rounded on him with an accusatory finger, and before he had time to respond she'd launched herself in the air, knocking them both to the ground. She began repeatedly swinging clenched fists at his face, and managed to get in a few good punches before she felt her body being lifted off his, suspended in the air.

The young man growled, and in their close proximity Rose realized that his eyes were not twinkling; they were flooding with a gray haze, much like Hawke's did.

Before she asked the question, he replied with a sardonic grin. "Don't get ahead of yourself now, Rosie."

As he moved forward, she felt herself being pushed along with his strides, still hanging a few feet above the ground.

"How do you know my name?" She snapped at him, but before he could answer she continued on, in an irritated tone, "better yet, who do you think you are? I'm _not a toy_!" She growled angrily, kicking her feet out at him.

He laughed, squinting his eyes as they seeped with gray again; Rose felt her body moving forward, now only inches away from him. He was naturally much taller than her, but the suspension brought them to eye level. Rose felt herself having a flashback to something similar…

"I don't think you're a toy, Rose Weasley. On the contrary, I think you're a marvel," he winked, reaching out to take her hand. She tried to yank it away, but found that something stopped her; the entire left side of her body was paralyzed.

"I can help you get your letter back." He half whispered.

"Why would you help me?" Rose narrowed her eyes at him, still struggling to pull her hand away.

"_They_ want to keep you out of it. _They _don't think you're powerful enough, or clever enough. But," he moved a hand up to stroke a stray curl from her face, "I know better."

His eyes began flooding with gray again.

"What's your name?" Rose asked, suddenly trying to mask the fear in her voice.

"Ralph," the boy's smile widened, "Ralph Gostrow." He stuck a hand out for her to shake, and Rose tried to return the sentiment, and found that this time her left hand could move.

As their palms collided, a shiver shocked her spine and Rose fell to the ground.

"I'll be seeing you, Rose Weasley," he leaned down and whispered, almost as though it were intimate words exchanged between lovers, and by the time she looked up he was gone.

She sat there for some time, marinating in her own disbelief on the Astronomy Tower floor. There was a genuine part of her heart that felt the overwhelming wrongness of the situation, but she could not forget his words…

_They want to keep you out of it. They don't think you're powerful enough, or clever enough_….

Rose Weasley _hated_ being underestimated.


	8. Magid

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**:  
"Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out." - Anton Chekhov

Albus Potter had perhaps been the only person in all of Hogwarts that had paid attention to his classes that day. He sat through Advanced Potions and N.E.W.T. level Charms with little difficulty; though neither of his parents were exceptionally hard working students, Albus took it upon himself to leave a legacy at Hogwarts. He often saw the school as a more important home than the one he went to on holidays.

Perhaps it helped that, at Hogwarts, James Potter could not eclipse Al's existence by his overpoweringly handsome and popular shadow.

Since the two were young, the Potter boys clashed like night and day. James took it upon himself to tease his younger brother about being a Slytherin, despite their father Harry's adamant reminders that they loved Albus the same, and Albus adopted a famous sneer that Harry admittedly recognized as a Malfoy-like trait to counter James' holier-than-thou ego. It was a constant war zone in the Potter house; Lily was the only grounded soldier, though she kept a considerable distance between herself and her brothers.

As Albus sat through Charms, he reflected on this fact. Lily was also taking N.E.W.T. Charms, and since the new regime at Hogwarts upper level classes were mixed, no longer restricted to two houses at a time; she always sat in the front, and Albus was a creature of the last row in every classroom. From his current seat he saw the back of Lily's head, watching it curiously as she leaned forward, listening intently to the lecture.

She was his _sister_, Albus knew that counted for something that ran much deeper than his friendships should; and yet, he found himself on the side of his mates.

Lily and Rose did not get along; Rose always tried to bridge the gap between their strikingly different personalities, but Lily was too proud, or perhaps it was because she was too judgmental, as Albus often pointed out.

There was a joke in the Potter family, unbeknownst to their mother Ginny, that Lily Potter was far more likely the offspring of Hermione than she was her redheaded mother. Although Albus would never admit, he sometimes wondered if Rose was meant to be his true sister.

Still, he could not help but feel his hands were painted red with the betrayal of a sibling's love. Without realizing, his hand had moved forward, nearly hanging off the front of the desk, with his palm outstretched. Lily felt so far away; he just wanted to be able to reach her.

Class ended, and as the crowd of students exited the classroom Albus caught up with his sister.

"Hey, Lils," he smiled politely, holding his knapsack in one hand as he used the other to squeeze her shoulder.

"Albus," she said stiffly, keeping her gaze forward as they walked.

"Wanna sit with me at lunch?" He suddenly found himself asking, disregarding the usual tradition of eating with his two best mates.

Lily stopped mid-stride, turning to look at Albus dubiously. The whole school was aware of the Potter-Weasley-Malfoy friendship, and their daily lunches. They were the only students who ate at _other _house tables; it would garner publicity no matter how obscure or well known their parents were.

"Are you sure?" She finally asked after a beat of silence.

"Of course I'm sure, you're my sister," he emphasized the last word.

She looked as though she was about to laugh, but there was a smile creeping its way onto her thin lips.

"Yeah, alright. That sounds good." Lily linked her arm with her brother's, and the two Potters walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall together, happily comfortable in their silence.

As they entered the large dining hall, they passed by a seemingly confusing scene at the Gryffindor table; Albus steered them towards his own house, wanting nothing to disturb this brief peace he had found with his sister.

At the Gryffindor table Michele stood, her hand gripping the front of another girl's robes. "Take it _back_," she nearly growled, tightening her hold.

The girl gave her an incredulous look, but was too scared to move. "Why does it even matter? Rose _is_ a tramp. She's got everyone in love with her. I heard she slept with Rolan Roxbury _and_ Scorpius Malfoy, in the same night," she said in a defensive tone, though her raised eyebrows made it seem like she hoped to impress Michele with this knowledge, and convince her to release her.

"_What_?" Another voice joined the conversation, interjecting with a near hiss. "That's absolute _bollocks_!" They shouted, now identified as Jeremy Wood, another sixth year Gryffindor. "She did no such thing!" He continued, stepping next to Michele and mirroring her fierce expression.

Chele was surprised, expecting to have to fight Rose's battle against their gossip-driven housemates alone; she had to mask a smile as Jeremy backed her up. They rarely spoke, so she began wondering why he seemed so adamant to defend Rose…

Before she could consider the thought, the girl pushed Michele.

Jeremy jumped into action so quick she barely caught a glimpse of his outstretched arms as he stepped between the two girls, careful not to push either one.

"Watch what you do," he said in a low voice, eying the girl who pushed Michele with restraint as he tried to calm his own anger.

"Do you always make your boyfriend fight all your battles?" The girl, whose name Jeremy recalled to be Vivane Montague, spat back.

"Sod off," he finished the conversation with a sarcastic smile as he took Michele's arm and led them away from the group of people that had begun forming around them.

"Sorry about that, she shouldn't have pushed you," he said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…. I'm fine," Michele replied. Though she was grateful for his support, she did not like having someone else fight for her. Vivane Montague's words were still ringing in her ears; _do you always make your boyfriend fight all your battles_?

Chele briefly wondered if being called her boyfriend bothered Jeremy; he did not mention it, so she relaxed her skeptical expression a bit.

"Thanks," she said in a quiet voice.

Jeremy nodded. "Sure. Those girls are just jealous of Rose because she's amazing." His smile widened as he said Rose's name, and suddenly Michele understood.

"Yeah, she is," the girl said in a slightly bitter voice.

"Anyway, gotta head to the Library. Food is for the weak," Jeremy laughed, patting Michele on the back as he sidestepped her, "see you."

She nodded her head, waiting until he was out of the Great Hall to follow suit, not wanting to sit near Vivane and her minions. As the petite blond walked up the moving staircases to the North Tower, she tightened her jaw against the threatening quiver moving up her throat.

Rose Weasley would never be more than a friend; she would never see Michele, never understand how much she cared. Chele had watched over the years as boys spoke behind the redhead's back, saying awful and crude things, while Rose took each whispered rumor to heart. She had always been Rose's comfort, reminding her that they were stupid teenage boys.

Without realizing, Michele had set herself up for disappointment. She had always known that Rose could not return her feelings, and yet she allowed the girl to abuse her loyalty.

It had seemed like a give-and-take, as Rose never missed an opportunity to yell at anyone who hurt Michele, but it was not with the same fierceness that she defended Rose with.

The Portrait Hole appeared up ahead, and Chele walked towards it with a small determination brewing in her step.

Today was the day Michele Blanch would take herself seriously.

* * *

Albus reached across the table, taking a slice of bread from his sister's plate.

She laughed and slapped his hand playfully. "Al, there's an entire plate of toast in front of you. Why don't you take one of those?"

"Because your toast looks so much better," he pouted, picking it up and stuffing it in his mouth before she could stop him.

"Albus!" Lily half shouted, giggling as she went for another slice to refill her plate.

"Well, isn't _this _an interesting sight," a third voice appeared, coming from behind Albus.

"KC," Lily smiled, patting the seat next to her, "join us, luv."

"You two are friends?" Albus heard his voice unintentionally crack as he asked.

Lily gave him a strange look. "You don't remember me summering with her in Brighton Beach last year?"

His ears turned bright red, recalling his sister mentioning something about it, but he had been too busy organizing a trip to spend the vacation at the Malfoy estate in Bulgaria with Rose and Scorpius.

"Oh, right, yeah. I thought you were talking about someone else."

"Another KC?" The blond girl said jokingly, taking the seat next to Lily. "There aren't any other KCs at Hogwarts."

"Well, I was… I meant that…" Al searched for words, avoiding eye contact.

"He meant that he doesn't step out of the Rose-Albus-Scorpius bubble too often. You'll have to forgive him," Lily joked, but there was an undertone of bitterness in her words.

KC raised her brows at Albus, and he wondered if she was recalling their conversation from breakfast. "Well, my dear Slytherin," she grinned crookedly and reached her hand across the table to rest on top of his. "Only one of two things will happen, your bubble will burst or you'll marry one of them, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal to marry your cousin."

Al's eyes popped once he realized what she had implied.

"It's called a _bromance_," he defended himself indignantly. "Merlin, I can't believe I asked you out this morning."

Lily had been taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, and she started choking.

"You _what_?" His sister asked, shocked.

KC had been grinning the whole time. "He asked me out," she said without looking at Lily. "Merlin, I can't believe I came over here to tell you my answer is yes." She mocked Al's words, hiding her amusement.

"Wait, really?" He tried not to seem too enthusiastic, but it could not be helped.

"This weekend is the next Hogsmeade weekend. Better plan something exciting," KC winked at him, and she stood up to leave, waiting for Lily.

"Oh, I think I'll finish up with my brother," she looked up at KC and smirked. The blond nodded, squeezing her friend's shoulder just before walking back towards the Ravenclaw table.

"I hope you know," Lily started, taking a bite of her sandwich as she watched Al's frozen expression, "she used to date Rolan Roxbury. Just saying."

His face shifted to slight panic. "He's not going to come after me, is he?"

Lily shrugged, taking another bite of her sandwich.

* * *

In the beginning of term, Scorpius had tried to tailor his classes to Rose's schedule, but his father had been quite furious to learn that his only child was taking a course load heavy with Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He told his son it was a bad political move, and he would be much better off taking classes to prepare him for Auror training.

Scorpius knew that in his family, the words "much better off" meant he had no choice in the matter. So he begrudgingly had changed his schedule.

That afternoon he sat through his N.E.W.T. level classes with little interest. His brainstorming had hit a wall during lunch, realizing that the more he urged Rose to stay away from Garrett Hawke, the more she would pursue him. Instead, Scorpius now took to writing up a list of reasons why he was better than Hawke.

The only thing he managed to scrounge up was the same sentence written sloppily in the corner of his parchment:

_Because I don't kill squirrels_.

He was not even sure if that rumor was true, but it seemed to be the only solid compliment he dared give himself. To everyone else, Scorp had the unrivaled talent of being arrogant, but to Rose Weasley he could not give himself more than a morsel of credit when it really came down to it.

As his last class finished up, Scorpius wondered if he should skip dinner as well, wanting to make Rose even more worried than she was when he'd skipped lunch.

Little did Scorpius Malfoy know, Rose shared the same sentiment.

* * *

Rose had gone to her afternoon classes, though she was barely there mentally. A few people attempted to start conversation, but she kept her replies to one word. Her mind had not stopped going over the events in the Astronomy Tower during lunch.

She had cultivated more knowledge, but it only opened more questions. So, whatever that Slytherin boy was, he was not alone. In her last class it occurred to Rose that a name would be easy to extract, as long as she asked the right person.

Approaching Vivane Montague just as the bell rang, releasing the N.E.W.T. Dark Arts: How to Combat Evil without Magic students, Rose caught the girl mid-conversation with another Gryffindor in their year.

"Hey, you know that fittie in Slytherin? The one who's really tall and yummy?" Rose tried to alter her speech pattern so that someone like Vivane Montague could understand, "what's his name?"

Vivane eyed her a moment, unsure if she wanted to answer, but finally smiled and offered, "Hawke. I think his first name is Garrett, but everyone calls him Hawke."

"Thanks, you're a doll," Rose imitated her smile, nodding her head to the two girls before walking off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Vivane leaned in towards the other girl and whispered excitedly, "Rose and Hawke are an item. Tell everyone you know."

* * *

Classes were a supplemental part of his life now, as Garrett Hawke grew into his real destiny. Sitting through them became a slight punishment, but he was motivated by the constant reminder that knowledge is power; he also wanted to set an example worth looking up to, for his sister Maria.

She was sweet and delicate, untouched by his father's discipline thanks to Hawke's vigilance in defending her. He had lived the scorn of Mr. Hawke's disappointment and lack of belief in his son; he did not want Maria to bear the same scar. Instead, he reminded her how special she was every day. The girl was an exceptional Potion brewer, and she had her eye on a bigger life.

Although Hawke knew that he may not be around to see it happen, he was determined to destroy anything that came in the way of Maria's happiness.

He had promised to meet her in the Courtyard before dinner, and following through on his word he left his last class a few minutes early to ensure he would be there when she showed up.

Sitting quietly in the farthest bench from the castle that made up the circular Courtyard area, Hawke waited with his eyes on the sky, watching the moving clouds.

Maria showed up after some time, running towards her brother as she tried to hold up her knapsack. She was a tiny second year, though matured well beyond her age.

"Garrett," she smiled, as he enveloped her into a hug. Maria was the only person who openly addressed him by his first name.

"Hey, little angel," he smiled, ruffling her hair as she took the seat next to him. "What did you want to show me?"

"I was reading something in History of Magic the other day. We were given half the period to get a head start on our midterm essay, and I came across something I thought you'd like," she smiled, reaching into her bag, pulling out a leather-bound book. The title read, '_Myths and Marvels of the Magical World_'.

Hawke felt slightly uneasy at the title, but he let his sister keep talking. She flipped to chapter 12, holding up the book as it looked comically large in her small, dainty hands.

"_One of the most loved myths, and yet the least told since the turn of the century, is that of Magids_," she began reading.

All the color in Hawke's face drained.

"_It is said that some wizards are so powerful that they do not require a wand to channel their magic. These wizards are commonly referred to as Magids, although there is some literature that ties them with the myth of Merlin's Angels, a supposed task force Merlin himself put together before his death. Because they do not need wands, they are capable of magic far more powerful than this world – this universe has ever seen. It is said that Magids are so powerful, they make Gellert Grindelwald look like a boy with a silly looking stick_."

Hawke cut her off, taking the book suddenly from between her hands.

"Garrett! What—what are you doing? I thought you would want to know. I thought—."

"Maria, this stuff is bollocks," he said hurriedly, tucking the book into his bag.

"But, Garrett," she lowered her voice, "I did it for _you_. I've kept your secret from mum and dad but I thought you would want to know… to know what you are!" She raised her voice towards the end, lip quivering slightly.

Hawke's face fell, and for a moment there was an expression of deep pain that crossed his strong features. "I know what I am, Maria, love, I know." He said in a low voice.

His sister's eyebrows shot up, and she had begun to speak but before she could express her confusion, Hawke took hold of her shoulders, locking their gazes and clenching his jaw as his eyes filled, most regrettably, with a swirling gray haze.

Like he had many times before, Garrett Hawke obliviated his little sister's memory, telling himself it was for the best. She needed to be protected.


	9. History Repeats

(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (VERY IMPORTANT. READ THIS): **At this point, I've posted nine chapters and no one has reviewed since I originally posted this story years ago. This isn't Tolstoy or anything but it does take time/effort to write this story. And it seems like it's really just for me. Reviews make authors feel good. I don't even know if this story is decent, or if anyone's reading it. I'd hate to keep writing past nine chapters if it's a lost cause. If you are reading this, and you like it, PLEASE leave a review. Just let me know. Otherwise, this will be the last chapter I'm posting on here. I'm too sad to continue with just one review. =[

* * *

**Chapter Nine**:  
"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart, or burn down your house, you can never tell." - Anonymous

Scorpius spent the dinner hour hiding away in his four poster, as he did during lunch, and halfway through his sloppily made sandwich he began to feel guilty for abandoning such a crucial part of his day. The trio meals were the one time they all had a chance to catch up on each other's days. Scorpius suddenly realized that he had absolutely no clue how Rose and Albus were doing after breakfast. _It's not like anything big can happen in one day_, he reassured himself as he took another bite of his sandwich.

As he chewed, he felt something hard.

"Ow!" Scorpius cursed and spat out the sandwich into his hand, beelining for the nearest trash can. "Stupid…" he began, glancing down just before throwing away the culprit; what he saw shocked him.

Hidden between the semi-damp slices of bread and turkey and squished cheese was a very shiny, very misplaced object.

At first Scorpius was not sure if he had seen correctly, and he rubbed his eyes before reassessing the little gem. Poking a slender finger into the half-chewed mess, he managed to grab the item by its circular base and pull it out, tossing the remnants of the sandwich as he did so.

"Is this you asking?" A small, shaky voice interrupted him, and Scorpius nearly fell over from surprise.

"Rose?" He said tentatively, noticing the redhead as she lingered in the doorway of the boy's dormitory, but unsure if he was _really_ seeing her.

"You didn't answer my question," she half smiled, moving towards him slowly with her arms outstretched. He could tell from the tiny bags under her normally bright eyes that she had been crying.

"Oh," he grinned crookedly as he pulled her into a hug, her much smaller frame fitting perfectly against his chest, "this is for mum. I bought it as a birthday gift," he lied, as he pocketed the ring he'd just pulled out from inside his sandwich.

He would address the complete strangeness of that fact later. Right now, there was a fragile girl in his arms who seemed very close to erupting in tears again, and Scorpius was awful at dealing with crying girls.

"Do you want to talk about it, luv?" He asked softly, resting his chin on top of her head. He caught the scent of her hair, a sharp watermelon, and it made him smile.

"No," she replied quietly, burying her head deeper against his chest.

It was rare, but Scorpius and Rose shared moments like this. He never pressed her, or brought them up later, but he wondered quite often if they meant something more than just the passing comfort to her. Scorpius could feel his heart rate increase as they held the hug, and he reluctantly let go of her. Taking her hand, he led them over to his four-poster and drew the curtains around them, giving them some privacy.

"Had a bad day?" He tried again, leaning back against the headboard and patting the spot next to him. Rose scooted over, resting her head against his shoulder and letting her hands keep still on his chest.

"Sort of," Rose bit her lip, not sure if she should elaborate. It had been an unplanned decision to seek Scorpius out, but after she had gone to the library following her chat with Vivane Montague, it seemed the only option.

Garrett Hawke was his name; armed with this knowledge and the peculiar events during lunch at the Astronomy Tower, Rose had gone to seek refuge amongst the many shelves of books, hoping to find a morsel of information to calm the stirring beast in her chest.

She checked the family records, easily managing to find 'Hawke' under the list of oldest pureblood families, but it was not what she found on _his_ family that made her heart stop as she crouched behind the fifth row of books in the Library, avoiding Madame Pince's hawk-like stare.

There, just under the 'Hawke' family crest and description, was another symbol she recognized; one she had walked the halls of, sat at dinner with, and even kissed.

Malfoy.

It would not have seemed so strange to her, if the crest that followed Scorp's namesake had not been, in very plan dark ink, 'Gostrow'.

Rose had sat there for some time, trying to make sense of it.

She finally decided to go see Scorpius, partly because she wanted answers and partly because she had begun to feel the stress of that day pulling down her usually effortless optimism. Rose Weasley was good at throwing caution to the wind, and relaxing amidst chaos, but today was too heavy.

Perhaps the burden of carrying around everything she had seen was becoming shackles on her ankles, pulling her into the depths of the Black Lake.

"Scorpius, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest." Rose kept her voice even, but she nuzzled herself closer to him.

"Of course, luv, ask away." He tried to mask the worry in his voice, not wanting to scare her off from trusting him.

"Do you know Garrett Hawke? Personally? Or, does your family know his family?"

Scorpius was grateful that she could not see his face in that moment, for his eyes nearly popped out of their slanted, deep sockets.

"Why?", was all he could muster without giving his shock away.

"I…" Rose began, recalling Hawke's warning about keeping the secret to herself. She contemplated heeding the warning, and after a minute of silence the young Gryffindor conceded only one truth, "I'm beginning to think there's something a little off about him."

Scorp's shocked expression was replaced by a very smug one; moving his head just slightly, he kissed the top of Rose's head.

"I completely agree." He said, not bothering to mask his satisfaction.

"What do you know about the Gostrow family?" She suddenly asked.

For once Scorpius found himself utterly speechless.

"How the heck do _you _know who they are?" He sat up, pulling his arm away from her.

"Scorp, don't be like that," Rose cooed, trying to get him to lean back, but he refused.

"_No_, Rose, I understand that you want male attention because you're upset, but that doesn't mean you get to push and pull me like a rag doll," he found himself seized with a conviction he had not known was there, feeling a bubble of anger rising in his chest. He scooted away from her, to emphasize his point. "Now, did you come here because you had a bad day and you want me to make you feel better, or did you come here to extract information? I'm not an idiot. You can just ask me."

His monologue swelled, and then died down to a quiet whisper. Scorpius felt ashamed for berating her without provocation, but he did not disbelieve his own words. Even though he was not aware that he felt that way until the moment he said it, Scorpius was glad to have given Rose a startle.

Though it seemed his words caused much more than that; Rose brought her arms close to her chest, wrapping them around her own body as she purposely avoided eye contact with her best friend.

"I'm sorry…" she began in a feeble voice, something rare for Rose Weasley, "I really did have an awful day. I wanted information too, but I mostly came to see you. I don't know – I just… _everything_… today…. Scorp. I wanted to see you. I don't know what else to say."

She finished with a sigh; it was met with utter silence.

Scorpius considered her words carefully, knowing that she did not lower her defenses on a whim. He wanted to believe the pleading sound in her voice, but self-preservation kept him at bay.

"I'll answer you, if you answer something for me. And, Rose, tell the truth," he said evenly.

"Anything," Rose replied, though she had not considered the magnitude of her promise.

"Why were you with Hawke last night? You seem to dislike him _now_, but I saw him drop you at your window. He tucked you _in_. And you lied about it at breakfast," Scorpius pointed out at the end, though he tried not to seem irritated.

Rose took in his words, and she seemed to struggle with them as she gave the blond a very confused look. After a period of quiet, Rose finally responded in the smallest voice he'd ever heard. "I made a mistake, Scorp. Can you just leave it at that? I know it's a lot to ask, but…" she scooted forward on the bed, taking his hand and putting it up to her cheek, closing her eyes a moment, "please," she reopened her eyes, keeping a steady gaze on his face, "can you just leave it at that, for now?"

Scorpius clenched his jaw, and a hardness crept into his gray eyes. "Ralph Gostrow is a good friend of my father's. He's younger than dad, though. I think they met at-," here he paused, wincing as he spoke the next words, "a Death Eater thing."

Rose instantly dropped his hand, most of her muscles seizing up. She had only mentioned the last name to Scorpius, so it seemed he _also_ knew the peculiar man from the Astronomy Tower.

The knowledge that pieced together in Hermione Granger's daughter's head worked like wildfire, but as it spread and connected the dots, Rose began to fear what she was realizing.

"I have to go. Scorpius," Rose stood from the bed, drawing the curtains back and giving her best mate a pained look, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" The blond asked, though he did not move.

She left without answering, strides rather quick as she exited the boy's dormitory and the Slytherin Dungeons altogether. Rose knew with absolute certainty, as she did earlier in the Astronomy Tower, that she would not make it to their 'date' tonight.

* * *

Only a few minutes were left of dinner, and Rose was determined to catch Hawke before he left the Great Hall, assuming he had been there in the first place.

She emerged just as a throng of students were leaving, and as Rose craned her neck to spot Hawke's impossibly tall frame among the moving mass of bodies, she found someone else coming towards her.

Lily Potter.

Immediately Rose backed away, pretending to have not seen her cousin as she leaned against the stone wall behind her.

The dark haired girl approached her determinedly, and Rose had no option but to acknowledge her presence.

"Oh, hey Lil!" She faked an enthusiasm that was not mirrored in her awkward body language.

"Albus has a date this weekend with KC. Thought you should know," the wide-jawed only daughter of Harry Potter said in a slightly snappy tone, and then she disappeared into the crowd around them.

Rose stood there, forgetting her original plan for a moment, as she wondered what on _earth _Lily's problem was.

"Is it a coincidence that every time I find you you're always looking for me?"

A voice interrupted her reverie; one she knew all too well, at this point.

"Well, maybe I'm always looking for you. Ever think of that?" She shot back, purposely letting her irritation show.

"You really need to be nicer to me," Hawke laughed, his hands clearly hidden in his pockets as he approached her.

"I don't know how many times I have to make this clear to you: _you have my letter_." Rose nearly hissed, putting her hands on her hips.

"And I've decided to give it back to you, so you can stop being so defensive," he raised a brow, smirking just a bit.

"You… you what?" Rose asked in disbelief, arms lowering just a little.

"I've decided to give it back to you. But, first, I have to make sure you can be trusted with this information. Will you take a walk with me? Over to the lake, maybe?"

She eyed him warily, and after a beat replied, "Alright, but I have Quidditch practice in two hours."

"You play?" Hawke began walking, and she followed suit.

"Yeah, I'm Chaser for Gryffindor," Rose said rather proudly, "I've been playing since my second year."

"That's impressive." He raised both brows.

"_What_?" She caught the almost miniscule undertone of mockery in his voice.

"Well, I mean, your father…" he sort of waved his hands absently, quickening his pace so he could reach the door first; as he did, Hawke held it open for Rose.

"You know my father?" She stopped in her tracks, at the bottom of the castle steps.

"No, I just heard some stuff about his Hogwarts days," Hawke shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and offering a sheepish grin.

"Oh, _oh_, yeah," Rose caught herself smirking, "Mum told me all about that. 'Weasley is our king'!" She laughed, but the polite gesture died out quickly as soon as she remembered she was supposed to be weary of him.

"You don't have to be so cold around me, you know. You're going to get your letter back. Maybe it's time you try a different approach," Hawke took a hand out of his pocket and offered it to her.

Rose eyed the freshly burned skin of his palm, noting the change from earlier, and finally took his arm, not his hand. "We're not quite there yet," she said in a serious tone, but there was a tiny smile playing across her naturally reddish lips.

He had handled the letter recently. Rose wanted to ask, but she was so worn down from the stress of the whole day that she decided to do something that had not been done since breakfast; throw caution to the wind.

"I like late fall weather," she observed as they begun to walk towards the Courtyard, but Hawke changed their direction as they neared the benches. "There's something simplistic about the sun still being out, but the falling leaves remind us of a lot."

"Of what?" Hawke asked, keeping his eyes on the horizon as they started on a path towards the lake.

"Of death. Of mortality. Of… cycles." She shrugged.

"You think everything repeats itself?" Hawke asked excitedly, but he cleared his throat just after, looking away.

"I think I've done this before. I think we've done this before."

Hawke turned to her, his shoulders tensing up, and he narrowed his gaze with sudden caution.

"Well, not _us _per se, but 'us', as in this world. I feel like we're all just repeating ourselves over and over."

His shoulders relaxed, and he offered a smile. "Right, of course."

"Don't you ever feel that way?" She seemed genuinely hoping for a 'yes', but Hawke had to be very careful with his next words.

"I think the universe is a mystery, and it's better left that way."

"You're no fun," she laughed softly, swatting his arm. They had approached the banks of the lake.

"Oh, on the contrary madame." Hawke eyed her with a mischievous glint as he edged them closer to the water, and without warning he picked Rose up by the waist and tossed her forward. She landed in the shallow banks of the Black Lake, half screaming and half laughing as she lunged forward to pull Hawke down with her.

* * *

From a distance, Lily Potter watched as her cousin and a very quiet, mysterious Slytherin splashed around in the lake. She held her bookbag close to her chest, lingering another moment before turning to go back inside the castle.

* * *

As Hawke fought back Rose's attempts to dunk his head underwater, he felt a brief sliver of guilt. He had lied to Rose about her letter; he had no intention of returning it to her, but he wanted to spend _time_ with the girl he'd slowly begun to care about from a distance.


End file.
